


When My Moon Rises (Your Sun Rises Too)

by starjay



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, out of character probably because i'm new to nct rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 14:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15074903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starjay/pseuds/starjay
Summary: Cyrinne didn’t care much for soulmates. What were the odds of meeting one anyway?Jeno loved the idea of soulmates. Wasn’t there something special about being destined for someone?





	When My Moon Rises (Your Sun Rises Too)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [royaljeno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/royaljeno/gifts).



> Happy birthday [wonrabbit](archiveofourown.org/users/wonrabbit)! I hope you have a wonderful day sweetie ♥
> 
> Title from NCT 127 - Sun&Moon because I'm literal trash for that song

“Read me this story again!” her little brother demands, waving a picture book in her face.

Cyrinne sighs but takes the book from her brother anyways, scooting over on the bed to make space for him. She flips open the book to begin reading from the first page.

“‘Long ago, there lived a princess in a castle made entirely of glass. Every morning when she wakes up, she sees her reflection in the many mirrors surrounding her, and her soulmate mark that cut a jagged line down her left cheek. Her parents had offended a witch, you see, and thus their daughter was cursed to be deformed and be faced with her deformity every day.’”

“But the prince rescues her!” her brother bursts out, unable to contain himself.

“Yes, but we have to read from the beginning because it sets up the story,” Cyrinne explains patiently, but lets her brother flip a few pages ahead anyway.

The scene she lands on is in the middle of a fierce battle. “ ‘Move aside!’ the prince demands with a fierce shout. ‘She is my soulmate, and I am here to rescue her!’ The dragon chuckles. ‘The obstacle you must overcome to win her heart is not me, but the princess herself, I’m afraid. Come back another day, when you are strong enough.’ With that, the dragon flicks the prince back as if he was a mere fly.”

“Cyrinne!” her mother nags from the first floor of the manor, interrupting the storytelling. “Your traditional dance lesson starts in ten minutes, and here you are reading to your little brother. Have you even gotten ready yet?”

“I’ll be right down, mother!” Cyrinne calls back, handing the book to her little brother. “I’m sorry, but you heard mama. Maybe we can finish the story after, okay?”

Cyrinne stands up and straightens out her dress, smoothing it out and looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror to make sure she was presentable before exiting the room.

Her bedroom is at the end of the hall on the second floor of her family mansion. Her parents had been middleclass merchants who worked their way to their wealthy status now, yet one look around the residence suggests they had been nobles their entire lives. As Cyrinne descends the central staircase, her eyes catch on the family crest hanging above the railings, depicting a crescent moon that formed the beginning of her family name Callis.

She rubs the matching crescent moon birthmark on her wrist absentmindedly as she reaches the parlour, where her mother and her dance teacher awaited.

“Hello mother, Miss Tikiirl. I’m sorry to have kept you both waiting,” Cyrinne greets them with a polite curtsey, an action that had been instilled in her since a young age.

“Oh, there she is,” her mother says. “Finally got her head out of fantasy worlds to grace us in the real one, hasn’t she.”

Cyrinne bites back the retort, wanting to argue that she was just reading to her brother, but she knows it is useless. If her mother thinks she is in the wrong, then there was nothing she could say to change her mind.

“Never mind that. Come along, child,” her teacher says, rising from her seat to walk down the hall, towards one of the many large, empty rooms.

As they warm up individually, Cyrinne studies her dance teacher with interest. Elora Tikiirl was a tall and slender woman, and her passion for dancing could be seen in the fluid way she moved about. Although her first impression could be quite cold, with her high cheekbones and severe blue eyes, Miss Tikiirl wasn’t difficult to get along with. She was simply a firm teacher with high expectations for her students, though this often led to her being scorned by the other noble girls who received lessons from her.

Cyrinne understands Miss Tikiirl’s teaching method and so she adapted to it, which earned the fondness of her teacher. Dancing was perhaps one of the more fun lessons she gets, for though she is obligated to learn the art like every other noble girl, it allows her a few hours away from the expectations that surrounds her at all other times.

“Today, we will do something a bit different,” Miss Tikiirl says. “You may know this already, but the Crown Prince of Estrelya will be arriving in Saros next week on a diplomatic trip. The King is planning a grand ball to welcome him, and of course, all nobles are invited to attend. Your mother has asked me to teach you a few routines that are native to Estrelya in hopes that you will impress the Crown Prince should you manage to catch his eye at the ball. I’m sure you understand what I mean.”

Her heart sinks slightly. Of course, Cyrinne has always anticipated the day where her parents find a suitor to marry her off to, or perhaps tell her to attract the eye of a more prosperous noble boy. She just didn’t know the day would arrive so soon, even though she just turned sixteen and became the suitable age for marriage. There isn’t even a guarantee that the prince would spare her a glance at the ball, yet she knows her mother would make her try nonetheless.

She rubs at the crescent moon on her wrist and sighs mentally. Not that she ever had any fantasies about meeting her soulmate, for that in itself was rare enough as it is. Soulmates, often scattered among the Eight Territories and in different classes, scarcely found each other, and most of the time even soulmates who do meet up remain friends for they are already promised to someone else. Still, it was nice to think that there was someone out there who was destined to be with her, romantically or not, and certainly marrying some noble boy would deter her from finding her soulmate quite a lot.

As if reading her thoughts, Miss Tikiirl’s normally serious expression faded to something softer and more compassionate. “From what I’ve heard, the prince is quite a sweet gentleman,” she offers. When Cyrinne doesn’t reply, she sighs and changes topics altogether, beginning her lesson instead.

By the end of the two hours, Cyrinne is exhausted but feeling confident she could pull off at least _some_ of the moves without tripping. She’s met with her mother’s eager expression when they return to the parlour, as if she had been waiting there the entire time.

“So, I imagine Elora has told you about the ball, yes?” her mother asks.

“She has, mother,” Cyrinne replies dutifully.

“The two of you will work on the steps for this week. I’ve already ordered a dress for you to wear. Oh, I’m so excited for you to meet the prince!” She clasps her hands together in front of her. “Or at least, try to make acquaintance with that Meirval boy, would you?”

Cyrinne makes a face at the suggestion. Lord Meirval was one of the most influential nobles in the Kingdom of Saros, and his son was a bachelor that many ladies have tried to woo in the past. Young Lord Meirval was also about twelve years older than she is, and even if she is forced into an arranged marriage, Cyrinne would at least like to marry someone who was around her age.

Her mother’s expression turns from excitement to impatience when she doesn’t respond. “Now, run along now, or you shall be late to your classical history lesson!”

~

Cyrinne examines at her appearance in the mirror, satisfied that if she had to spend the entire evening forcing smiles at strangers, at least she’ll look good doing it.

Her dress, for once, was not overdone with glittering jewels that served little purpose other than to weigh her down. The pink garment falls just below her knees with lace-trimmed edges, with more lace following doily patterns spreading down from her waist. The waistline itself is done up with fake flowers shaped like stars, and she was wearing a hairband with the same flowers. As always, her ring with the family crest hung on a chain around her neck, completing her simplistic look as the only piece of jewelry she was wearing.

As she opens the door, she could hear the cacophony happening downstairs as her family and the servants rushed about to prepare for the ball. Casting one last look at the mirror, Cyrinne makes her way to the parlor apprehensively, mentally preparing herself for the evening.

When she reaches the bottom of the staircase, she is immediately greeted by her mother, who takes both her hands and squeezes.

“I am so excited for you! Remember, when you meet the Prince - ”

“Keep his attention subtly, smile, and entertain him. I know, mother,” Cyrinne sighs out.

Her mother nods in satisfaction, not even scolding her about the interruption for once. “Don’t approach him immediately, wait for the perfect opportunity to woo him then try to get him alone if possible, talk about literature or something. Let him know that you are educated, and by the moon, don’t make small talk like the other girls are bound to.” Upon seeing her less than thrilled expression, she adds, “And if all else fails, at least get the Meirval boy interested!”

Cyrinne affirms that she understands with a hum. As if her mother knew her thoughts, her expression softens. “I just want the best for you. I don’t want you to have to work hard if I can help it, like your father and I. Don’t think of this as a mission, and enjoy yourself if anything.” “Thank you, mother,” she replies, and her mother rushes off to make sure her brothers are ready to leave as well.

She leaves the manor to see the two carriages already parked in the courtyard, and immediately walks towards the farther one. Though smaller and less decorated, she practically grew up with the twin horses that are currently harnessed to the vehicle. Allegro and Andante nicker softly in greeting, and she pets both of them briefly before climbing into the carriage. Caring for the horses was a job that was viewed to be for stable boys, not esteemed noble girls.

The ride to the palace was relatively quiet, as even her younger brothers could sense how important the event was. Although foreign delegations were common and balls were hosted on a regular basis, visiting royalty was rare, and it was imperative to represent their kingdom well to the Estrelyan prince.

Once they arrive, Cyrinne was immediately led towards the ballroom at the end of the Great Hall. What was once an intimidating venue, with its sweeping ceiling, magnificent arches, and enchanted chandeliers had become a familiar sight from how often her family attended such social events, and the familiarity now provided a semblance of comfort to ease her nerves. Besides his name - Jeno of the Sevell family - she didn’t know a single thing about the Crown Prince, only that he was the only heir to the throne and was therefore sheltered his entire life.

Already, she could hear the other young noble girls murmuring speculations about him. That he was plain. Boring. Simple-minded. They are already complaining to each other about having to catch the prince’s eye when there are so many other noble boys they could be pursuing, and the prince himself hasn’t even made an appearance. Though she is used to fake personalities and people talking shit about others in general, their comments angered her inexplicably. The girls haven’t even met the prince yet. And who said the prince would be interested in _them_?

As she made the usual greetings with the other nobles, forcing out a smile when young Lord Meirval mentioned how beautiful she looked that evening, a hush fell across the room until only the echo of a breath was left. The king of Saros had entered the ballroom, surrounded by his usual entourage to the ornate seat reserved for him on an elevated platform. Another group followed his path, comprised of the foreign ambassadors and a few nobles from Estrelya, but that wasn’t what caught Cyrinne’s attention.

In the middle of the group was a boy, perhaps not more than two years older than her, dressed in the formal wear of Estrelyan royals and laughing at something one of his friends must have said. When he smiles, his eyes become tiny crescents like the moon, although his presence was more like the sun, attracting the attention of all who set their eyes upon him.

Next to her, several girls have started whispering in disappointment.

“That’s the prince? This is going to be a long night,” one of them says crossly.

“I don’t care about him anymore. His friends must be wealthy nobles too, right? The brunet is so much cuter.”

Cyrinne, enraged, turns on them with a sickly sweet smile. “How about you guys mind your own business and respect him, the _Crown Prince_?”

The girls grumble but don’t appear to be truly apologetic, though before Cyrinne can snap at them further, the king raises a hand for attention.

“People of Saros, I greet you,” he begins, and the ballroom breaks out in polite applause. He always began his speeches that way, as if the room contained all the citizens of his kingdom and not just the privileged upper class. “Tonight, we gather to welcome the esteemed Crown Prince of Estrelya and his delegation. As you all may be aware, there is conflict brewing in the western territories, but our friends from the Empire of Estrelya have graciously proposed a peace alliance with us in order to keep our territories safe, and Emperor Sevell has sent his son as a show of goodwill. In the following months, he and his delegation will remain in our kingdom to learn about our people and create a stronger bond between Saros and Estrelya. Let us look forward to a new era between our people!”

The room breaks out in more applause, and the silence is broken as the nobles begin socializing again. Most of them started chattering excitedly about the new alliance, which has Cyrinne tuning out their conversations immediately. Politics never fail to bore her, and it was to no one’s surprise that there was trouble in the West again.

In all of the Eight Territories - divided by cardinal points, with a kingdom and an empire in each direction - the western territories were constantly fighting, followed by long periods of tense peace. Usually the conflicts were limited to the borders, but perhaps they had finally decided to drag the other territories into their petty battles. If that is the case, then it is no surprise that the eastern territories - Saros and Estrelya - would enter in an alliance, so she didn’t understand why everyone was making a big deal out of the agreement.

If anything, the war alliance would only be an excuse for a more long-term settlement between the territories, solidified by marriage between the nobles of Saros and Estrelya. That would explain the Crown Prince’s presence, at least.

As her thoughts stray to Estrelyan royalty, Cyrinne’s eyes drift over to the prince and his entourage once again among the crowd. The same girls who were bad-mouthing him a moment ago have now flocked to his side like fairies to music, smiling at him and speaking in broken Estrelyan. Jeno himself was smiling back and listening politely even though anyone with eyes would be able to see that the girls were more interested in his friends than in him.

Frustrated, Cyrinne strolls up to the group and smiled, slipping between the nobles so she could reach the prince.

“Hello,” she said, offering a curtsey in greeting. She could sense the confused glares from the other girls, but chalks it up to jealousy. After all, the prince’s attention was now on her.

“Hi,” Jeno replies, and up close, his eye smile was even more spectacular. “I don’t believe I’ve noticed you before. What’s your name?”

“Astrid-Cyrinne, of the Callis house, Your Highness. But please call me Cyrinne.”

By now, the other girls had dissipated with the prince’s entourage, as if feeling like they had a better chance with the nobles than the prince. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but Cyrinne could have sworn some tension eased out of Jeno’s shoulders at their disappearance.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he comments, grabbing her attention once again.

She blushes, then promptly scolds herself for blushing. She was here to attract the prince, and the prince would certainly not be attracted if she just stood with a red face for the rest of the evening. Clearing her throat, she answers, “You are too kind, Your Highness. How are you enjoying your stay in Saros, so far?” The fact that she managed to piece together a full sentence is commendable.

“It’s a beautiful kingdom, and your people have been very hospitable towards me so far. However, I couldn’t help but notice - ” Cyrinne nods, ready to agree with absolutely anything he says, “ - the amount of stray cats you have. Isn’t there a shelter you can put the poor animals?”

She blinks, before laughing at the expected question and out of genuine delight at how kindhearted the prince was. “I apologize, Your Highness,” Cyrinne says seriously once she recovers. “I’m afraid that the animals are of low priority in our kingdom, when we are still trying to care for our people.”

“I understand, though I don’t completely agree. In Estrelya, we have buildings specifically designed to take care of stray animals, and they aren’t costly to run at all. Most strays have a diverse diet anyway, and almost any of them can be domesticated. I myself have three cats at the palace…”

It was in this fashion that Cyrinne learns a great deal about Jeno, as he turns out to be more animated and enthusiastic when he isn’t surrounded by scheming nobles. He is much more kind-hearted than she would’ve guessed at the beginning, and much smarter than the noble girls gave him credit for. When Cyrinne points out their stares, he only smiles tightly and says he knew their motive the moment the first of them strolled up to him and began sweet-talking. It was just that he was here on a diplomatic trip and thought better than to start a scene at the ball thrown specifically to welcome him. She marvels at his patience and restraint, for she would have certainly sent a few home crying by now.

A muffled crash sounds off to the side, and the two of them turn to see one of Jeno’s friends wrestling another to the ground. From their conversation, Cyrinne guesses that the one on the ground is Donghyuck, who is currently being restrained by Renjun as he struggles to get back on his feet. That means the brunet standing off to the side, who is trying his hardest not to laugh, is Jaemin, the prince’s best friend. Jeno sighs and glances at her apologetically, like this was an everyday occurrence.

“I have to go sort them out. Have a wonderful evening, my lady,” he tells her graciously before walking towards his friends exasperatedly.

She is only alone for a moment before another noble boy took notice and began talking to her, no doubt a potential suitor, and she was forced to respond in kind. Despite her half-hearted attempt at conversation, the young man speaks to her enthusiastically, trying and failing miserably to earn her attention. Unless he is genuinely interested in her opinion on the dreary weather they’ve been having lately, Cyrinne figures she could safely tune him out.

The next few hours pass in a similar fashion, with various young men coming up to her with the ultimate goal to ask for her hand in marriage, some more forward than others. She smiles at all of them and declines in a politely sweet voice, becoming more and more drained as the night went on. Cyrinne catches the prince’s eye a few more times, though he was too preoccupied with the noble girls that had decided to surround him once again. She notices with disdain that they were invading his personal space, no doubt trying to initial physical contact to see if any of them ended up being soulmates with him. From the frustrated looks they pull when Jeno wasn’t looking in their direction, Cyrinne guesses that none of them had any luck so far.

One of the girls slips her arm around his waist, leaning in too close to whisper something in his ear, and Jeno looks positively uncomfortable. Cyrinne, completely out of diplomacy for the night, is about to march up there to teach the girl a lesson in respect, before she remembers Jeno’s wish for the ball to remain a peaceful affair and reigns her anger in. Thankfully, Jaemin steps in and tells the girl to back off. Even from a distance, Cyrinne could tell that despite his quiet appearance, his words were sharp and serious based on the reaction of the noble.

Deciding to abandon her mission of wooing boys altogether, Cyrinne escapes the crowded ballroom to cool off. There is no way she can stay and remain calm while watching the girls disrespect the Crown Prince like that.

She wanders the mostly empty palace absentmindedly, until her feet carry her to an alcove on the third floor that opens into a balcony. Growing up, the small balcony had been her favourite place in the palace, high up and tucked out of sight. Whenever her parents stayed at the palace late, she would inevitably escape whatever social gathering they were attending to look at the stars. They always twinkled just out of reach, carefree and unbound to any earthly expectations, and she envies them still.

Cyrinne loses herself in her thoughts, letting the cool night air brush through her hair. She is startled when another person suddenly steps out onto the balcony alongside her, preparing to tell off whoever it was that just invaded her sanctuary.

The words are lost on her tongue, however, when she comes face to face with Jeno, smiling at her apologetically.

“I hope you don’t mind my presence,” he says, “I simply needed some fresh air, and happened upon this spot by chance. I hadn’t noticed it was occupied.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Cyrinne quickly responds once she recovers. “You surprised me, that’s all.”

Jeno is quiet for a moment before he speaks again. “Thank you for earlier.”

Cyrinne is at a loss for words. “For what, Your Highness?”

“You were one of the only girls that kept your distance respectfully. And you seemed to genuinely have cared about my interests.”

“So, you’re thanking me for being a decent human being? Your Highness, you deserve so much more, and what I did was scarcely the bare minimum.”

He shrugs. “Perhaps, Miss Astrid-Cyrinne. But it seems as though even respect is hard to come by these days. Everyone is either too busy sucking up to you or planning to backstab you.”

She’s slightly flattered that he remembers her name, but also despondent at how his statement rings true. “As I have mentioned, just call me Cyrinne,” she says, instead of expressing in less than gracious words how the people who were using the prince for their own gain can get cursed by a wizard for all she cared.

“Cyrinne is beautiful, but Astrid is an equally beautiful. It means beloved goddess in Old Sarosan, does it not? But if you prefer Cyrinne, my lady, then I shall call you as you please.”

Jeno falls silent once more like he’s carefully choosing his next words.

“You know,” he begins finally to change the subject, as they stare at the stars together. “We are all made of stardust. So what if soulmates are simply two people that were made from the dust of the same star, and that is why they are attracted to each other?”

Cyrinne laughs, knowing there is no logical explanation to the magic that created soulmate bonds, no more than any explanation for the magic that created the territories and the people that inhabit those territories. “I suppose that is a romantic way of looking at it,” she replies. “Though whether there is any truth in your words, I cannot say.”

They lapse into contemplative silence. The night has gotten colder, and Cyrinne subconsciously leans into Jeno’s side.

Their arms brush accidentally, and suddenly, a tiny shiver of electricity runs through Cyrinne, ending at her soulmate mark. She looks at her wrist and gasps softly as the birthmark transforms from that of a crescent moon to one of a lunar eclipse - a deep red circle tinged with silver.

Next to her, Jeno starts in shock as well. He shows her his own soulmate mark on his wrist, which just turned from a sun to a solar eclipse, the dark circle surrounded by a halo of gold.

“By the moon,” she murmurs, unable to comprehend the situation, too shocked to properly form words. “I can’t believe this.”

Jeno turns to her, eyes bright and shining, looking happier than he had all evening. “You’re my soulmate, Cyrinne. I’ve always wanted to meet my soulmate, even though I knew the odds were low. There’s just something beautiful about being destined for someone, through magic that is as old as time and completely out of mortal control. All of tonight, I was terrified that my soulmate would be one of those noble girls.”

At the mention of the girls, Cyrinne comes to the belated realization that despite being sent to flirt with the Crown Prince of Estrelya, she didn’t speak a word of their language and therefore should have noticed sooner that they were each speaking their native language with each other, and only able to hold a conversation because soulmates could understand each other unconditionally. No wonder the others looked confused when she first approached the prince.

Despite Jeno’s enthusiasm, Cyrinne is less sure about the whole soulmate business. Being soulmates with a Crown Prince is a huge responsibility in itself. Besides, it’s almost too easy, that she was sent to win the prince’s heart and ended up being soulmates with him, and Cyrinne has never taken anything in her life for granted.

As if seeing the conflict play out on her face, Jeno smiles reassuringly and takes her hands. “I apologize if I have overwhelmed you. This doesn’t have to change anything between us, though. Despite what your people seem to think, I am only here on a diplomatic mission to learn about politics. I am not yet about to be crowned emperor, so I am not supposed to marry just yet. And I really do wish to get to know you better, as friends first. We can go from there.”

His words have a calming effect on her, preventing her from going hysteric at the sudden development, and she relaxes. “Yes, I would like to get to know you better as well.” Another thought occurs to her then, bringing her mood down slightly. “But once you return to Estrelya, it will be difficult for us to communicate. Even letters…they take quite some time to travel, without magic.”

He grins then, brighter than a million suns combined as his hold on her tightens. “Then every time you miss me, look up at the sky, and know that I am looking at the same sky and thinking of you too.”

\- END -

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for reading and once again, happy birthday [wonrabbit](archiveofourown.org/users/wonrabbit)! You deserve the world ♥ ♥ I finally did something close to an original story, are you proud of me? ;D
> 
> That being said, I planned more extensively for this universe than I actually explained, so if there’s anything you guys are confused about or interested to know about this AU, then feel free to ask in the comments. Have an awesome day/night everyone!
> 
> ~ starjay


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